


You Don’t Get to Play God with Me

by scifi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, also i am procrastinating my uni assignment, but it's my first fic so i'm sorry, i tried keeping them in character as much as possible, it will probs be answered in 4x11, this is my first 100 fanfic!, wow i got carried away with tags soz, yes this fic will have angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifi/pseuds/scifi
Summary: Set after 4x10:A oneshot where Abby finds out that it was Clarke who closed off the bunker, leaving Marcus on the surface.This is my first The 100 fanfic! I have been itching to write something about my space mum and dad for ages and then this happened, so enjoy.





	You Don’t Get to Play God with Me

**Author's Note:**

> • After watching the 100’s attempt at a Hunger Games episode and legit spending half of that time crying, I felt the need to write this fic. I don’t believe that Abby would even slightly agree to letting Clarke seal the bunker without Marcus in it and even though this will probably be addressed in episode 11 (seeing as Henry directed it, I have hope), I still wanted to write my take on what would happen when Abby found out about Clarke’s shit decision.
> 
> • I also freaked out at the idea of this show dooming all my faves in a single episode but I feel slightly less salty after seeing Marcus in the background of the episode 11 trailer.
> 
> • So yeah, hope you enjoy my first attempt at Kabby

Abby Griffin woke up from unconsciousness with an uneasy groan. Her muscles were stiff from hours of immobility and her head ached with the ghosts of sedation that refused to leave her peacefully.

The last thing she could remember was seeing a frown on Clarke’s face and the word _sorry_ falling from her daughter’s lips before the world around her went hazy. She could still feel the sharp jab of a needle dig its way into her carotid artery; delivered by the hands of someone she never saw.

_She was saying sorry for a reason._

Abby furrowed her brows, she couldn’t remember what they had been talking about but it must not have been good given her current situation. Hesitantly, she moved into a sitting position; she was on a medical cot in a sterile room she had only recently been acquainted with. The infirmary was empty; Jackson hadn’t returned from the island yet so there was no reason for it to be occupied.

_Why was she saying sorry?_

Her hand reached up to test the spot on her neck where the needle pierced her skin. It was sore, almost painful to touch; a bruise would surely bloom. The needle was administered by amateur hands.

She carefully placed her feet on the metal floor; she was still fully clothed, including her shoes. Whoever placed her on the cot did so in a hurry.

_Why would they be in a hurry?_

Abby crossed over to the workstation where various serums were spread across the bench and found a needle filled with a wheat coloured liquid; a Doctor’s version of a morning coffee meant to wake people up when sedation wouldn’t budge. As soon as the serum entered her bloodstream, the last of the sedative effects vanished and the reason behind her compromised position become apparent.

Her daughter had decided to play by her own rules, disregarding the 12 lives that were to be taken within the streets of Polis; closing the bunker door even if it meant sacrificing her own people. Clarke chose to end the lives of Octavia, Bellamy, Jackson, Miller, Murphy, Raven, even Emori… even Marcus.

_What the fuck Clarke?_

Abby placed several needles into her pocket – in case her future situation got dire – before she was off on her feet out of the infirmary, racing to find Clarke before it was too late. Her daughter had been behind some crazy plans in the past but none were as bad as the one currently at play. She reached the office where she had been before getting sedated and opened the doors with force to reveal Clarke and Jaha huddled over a map.

“Mum,” Clarke stated, the word was coated in false worry.

“We need to talk,” Abby couldn’t help a growl that underlined her words.

“You weren’t co-operating,” Jaha cut in, “I had to sedate you otherwise you could have jeopardised the entire operation.”

“To hell with your operation,” Abby hissed before directing her words at Clarke, “do you realise what you have done?”

“Yes,” Clarke responded.

“No, you don’t,” she walked over to the two of them, “you don’t get to play God anymore Clarke, especially not with me.”

The frown that frequented Clarke’s lips returned, “you didn’t hear Luna up there, mum. If she won we would all be dead but at least this way Skaikru will be safe.”

“Not all of us,” Abby pointed out.

“You have to understand,” Jaha interjected, “once the winner is chosen the grounders won’t be satisfied. They may say that they follow fate blindly but when twelve clans realise that fate chose them to die, I don’t think there will be many happy grounders in Polis. It would have been war, Abby. Clarke chose what was right, we found this bunker. We deserve this.”

Abby took a few steps closer to Jaha, “so, you think that what you have done is right just because we found this first? What’s the point in locking ourselves down here for five years if not all of us were down here when you decided everyone’s fate? Do you not care that we have people above the surface?” She turned around to look at Clarke, “what about Octavia and Bellamy, how could you leave them?”

“I got Bellamy,” Clarke replied, unable to meet her mother’s eyes.

“What about Octavia? What about Marcus?” she tried to keep her voice level but when his name escaped her lips she couldn’t help but let her voice tremble.

“I’m sorry…”

They were back to where they were before Abby was knocked out.

“Not good enough Clarke,” the words came out as a growl.

“I’m…”

“ _Sorry?_ ” Abby asked, “sorry won’t fix this mess you made.”

Clarke didn’t reply, she just stood in fragile silence with her eyes drawn to the floor. Abby’s lips pulled into a tight line, she had followed her daughter blindly for far too long but she had now crossed the line one too many times.

“I’m going to get him,” Abby stated, “I’m going to get Marcus and you sure as hell better let Jackson and the other’s in when they arrive in Polis.”

“We can’t let you do that Abby,” Jaha went to place a hand on her arm but she swiftly shrugged it away.

She glared at Jaha, fury tainting her words, “this isn’t the Ark anymore, you don’t get to decide who gets floated.”

“If we open those doors, there will be war. We can’t overthrow that many grounders,” Jaha said, keeping his words calm and slow-paced.

“Mum, I’m sorry it had to come to this but what’s done is done,” she could almost hear the pity in Clarke’s voice.

Abby shook her head, “No Clarke, you’re done playing God. You don’t get to choose my fate. Marcus is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time and you don’t get to take that away from me.”

“We can’t bring him in without the grounders finding out what we did,” Clarke reached out to touch Abby and this time she didn’t shrug the vain attempt of reassurance off.

Abby sighed; Clarke got her stubbornness from her. Searching for pity in her daughter was a useless exercise, she needed to fight fire with fire.

“Clarke,” she began steadily, “if you don’t let me save Marcus from Praimfaya then I won’t let you save me from it either.”

“What do you mean?” her daughter asked hesitantly.

“I’ll go join him and the rest of our people you trapped out there. I’d rather spend my last two days with him instead of spending the next two days knowing that my own daughter sentenced everyone up there to die,” Abby pulled away from Clarke. “Do you really want the blood of your own mother on your hands?”

Clarke didn’t reply; she didn’t have to.

“I hope you’re happy,” the words came out of Abby in almost a hiss before she left her daughter and Jaha standing together; Clarke had made up her mind and so had Abby.

With rapid pace, she headed towards the bunker entrance and second guesses dangerously surfaced as she stepped closer to what may be her fate. She was sacrificing her life for the man she loved in hope that her daughter would come to her senses before Praimfaya swept through Polis.

When she reached the bunker entrance, Abby was met with a guard who shifted in his position uncomfortably; his fingers brushed against the trigger. Her hand went to the pocket which had needles filled with tranquilliser; she would need them if the guard wouldn’t let her past which was the most likely scenario.

“Doctor Griffin,” one of the guards greeted her; he was just a boy, a member of the 100.

“Is it just you on?” she asked while moving closer; fully aware that the boy’s index finger fell into position on his rifle’s trigger.

“Yes,” he responded swiftly. It was just the two of them at the bunker entrance, no one else was in sight. It was poor planning on her daughter’s behalf.

“Well then, I’m sorry I’m about to do this. You will get a nasty headache but give it a few hours and you’ll be fine,” as she spoke to the guard, her hand slipped around one of the tranquilisers and unsheathed the sharp needle.

Before the boy could react, she injected the serum into his carotid artery with precision and he slumped to the ground unconscious before he could even ask what she was doing. It was all too easy and she had no doubt that Clarke was trying to work out a way to stop Abby’s reckless decision but she didn’t have time to think about the chaos she was about to leave behind; she could only think about the chaos she was about to enter.

She pulled the boy’s rifle out of his now loose grip and preceded up the stairs to the bunker entrance; she didn’t know what she would be facing outside. She had no idea if Octavia ended up victorious or if there was an army of grounders waiting to claim what the fate of the conclave deemed as theirs.

Abby yanked the bunker door open and her eyes were met with dim candlelight instead of a grounder army. She tentatively closed the bunker door behind her, sealing her fate in the process. If Clarke did not budge from her destructive decision within the next two days, then Abby had chosen to die just like those back at Arkadia who chose _DNR_ over life in a bunker.

She may have just sealed her fate but it was Clarke who pushed her into action. Now it was her turn to put pressure on Clarke.

The temple was poorly lit, only a fraction of the torches was lit up and long shadows danced on the ground. She almost thought she was alone in the room until the sound of familiar footsteps echoed from the entrance.

“Marcus?” she called out into the dark of night.

“Abby?” her call was almost immediately answered by the voice she had grown accustomed to hearing over a walkie talkie. Marcus Kane melted out of the shadows and into the light, a grin evident on his lips. “Oh Abby,” he quickly crossed the room and pulled her into a warm embrace. She couldn’t help but sigh as his familiar earthy scent saturated her senses and the coarseness of his beard brushed against her ear; their embrace didn’t last for long enough but it was bliss while it lasted.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she whispered before reaching up to place a soft kiss on his cheek which was imminently followed by a tender kiss on his lips.

“I can go get the other’s, Skaikru won the conclave, Octavia’s alive,” Marcus told her with a smile and Abby couldn’t help but mirror the expression. She had her doubts about Octavia winning, especially against grounders like Roan and Lune.

“We can’t go inside, there is no one on the other side of the bunker to let me in,” Abby admitted. “Clarke decided to claim the bunker as Skaikru’s even if we hadn’t won the conclave.”

“Why can’t we go in? What are you doing out here Abby?” Marcus took a slight step back so he could study her face.

She frowned, “I gave Clarke a choice to either save everyone or let me die alongside you. I think you can see what she chose.”

Marcus pulled Abby back into a hug, “You didn’t have to Abby.”

“I did,” she mumbled into his chest, “it’s the only way I could give us a chance to survive. She may be stubborn but I don’t think she’ll be willing to sacrifice the entire medical staff to Praimfaya.”

“Do you think she’ll open up the bunker door?” he asked her uneasily, doubt evident in his words.

Abby looked up into his rich brown eyes and reached up to stroke a hand along his salt and pepper beard, “I don’t know, Marcus. After what she did today I don’t think I even know my own daughter anymore.”

“These next two days may be full of uncertainty but at least I have you,” Marcus leant into her hand before pulling her into another kiss. For six weeks, they had been separated and on the eve of the end of the world, they were finally reunited under grim circumstances.

Abby didn’t know if taking fate into her own hands would be successful, she didn’t know what Clarke would do or if Clarke would even save her. She knew they Clarke had more blood on her hands than a girl her age should have but deep down Abby held onto the hope that her daughter wouldn’t let her own mother die due to rash decisions and stubbornness.

In the eve of the end of the world, standing outside their only hope for survival, Abby clung onto Marcus Kane; he was her only stability in a world full of chaos. Even if the door never reopened, she at least had the chance to spend the rest of her life with the man who was her sunlight in a world full of darkness.


End file.
